I awoke to that dreaded feeling.
Stomach spun and I was reeling.

The inner churn began around 3:30.
An AM attack, innards down and dirty.

The pain continued without leniency.
Had I committed any crimes recently?

What had I done to deserve this strife?
Had I eaten any uncooked wildlife?

It’s a wonder I even reached the loo.
To attempt expelling this violent poo.

But I was held back by the big C.
Constipation, name of woe is thee.

I summoned such immense force.
To impeach tyrannical turd sauce.

Yet the mountain refused to budge.
As if cement mixed with fecal fudge.

After an hour of laborious heaving.
A sickening mound I was conceiving.

It widened my hole without grace.
Hands on the wall I was braced.

Each inch was like rectal torment.
Would I live? I wasn’t confident.

As time passed I began to lose hope.
Would it help if I ate some soap?

But finally the last slab outward fell.
And I was left with just the smell.

As I sat and wiped the sweat from my brow.
Reflecting upon the unprecedented plough.

This one was by far the worst.
I’d been sufficiently caca-cursed.